Mountain Thieving Honkeys

An entire day dedicated to the exploration of Colorado Springs’ oddities was an easy itinerary addition for two unemployed fellas like Brian and me. We gassed up the ATM and headed due south for Garden of the Gods, a pocket full of natural wonders. Before we approached the official entrance it was quite apparent as to the beauty in which we were to be exposed. Monoliths jetting from scrub brush were painted with perfect shades of my favorite color, rust. We cruised in and around the chunks of rock winding our way to the gem attraction of Balanced Rock.

In the 1920s the jumbo boulder was owned by a fella who fenced it off and charged to be photographed in front of it while donning sombreros and smiling from the saddles of donkeys. According to my own personal theory after the city of Colorado Springs purchased the land surrounding the Balanced Rock in 1932 for $25,000, they knocked it off of its perch during restoration. Knowing that the chunk of stone was a guaranteed money making tourist trap they lifted it back up and cemented it in place. Sure, you can laugh and call this a crazy conspiracy theory, but the “stone” on its underside is a completely different color than any of the surrounding sediment.

 After completion of this post I discovered an article from the 1960s that reported cement being used to stabilized the rock after and evening of college hijinks went awry.

I kept trying to snap a pic of the Balanced Behemoth but a slutty single gal looking for a good time kept leaning against the rock and sticking her ass out. She would shout to her elderly mother, “Did you get it that time? How’s it look?” After the third attempt she climbed off of the shelf to give her mom a tutorial on how to use her camera and tried posing again. I am quite certain that a dozen or so Japanese families have a photo in their album of this moron.

Brian and Sara Joy are seasoned rock climbers with a training course built in Allen House Denver’s one stall garage. I followed Brian the ring tailed lemur up onto a pile of granite only to have my breath taken by my being a fat man combined with the eye orgy panorama. From our tippy top observatory Brian completed a successful “Northern Pike”, a yoga-like pose that our Grandpa Jack used as test for determining if he was sober enough to drive home from the tavern.

After a perfect Northern Pike dismount Brian pointed to the tallest of the surrounding mountains as Pikes Peak. Before the area was settled by honkeys the glorious crag was named “Trava” meaning “Sun” by the indigenous Ute. After being snatched from the nomadic peoples it was named after the first cracker who spotted it, Zebulon Pike. It must have been difficult to spot amongst the godless savages’ teepees and casinos.

I wanted to drive the ATM to the summit of Pikes Peak but changed direction once I learned of the $12 per rider in the car admission fee. The cog railroad would have been a grander route if tickets would have been cheaper than $34. At this point I was second guessing my strict policy of paying for attractions. I stuck to my caulk guns and rerouted our day to the Rose Lady Shrine.